


The Personal Diary of Mycroft Holmes

by alternate_me



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Kidlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-29
Updated: 2013-12-29
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alternate_me/pseuds/alternate_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is going through some old papers and belongings and finds his old diary, in which there are stories of him and Sherlock when they were young. Also, Mycroft decides to write a few more things concerning his brother's present situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Personal Diary of Mycroft Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> I've always thought Mycroft was the kind of meticulous man who would keep a diary of the most important facts that happened in his life. And I couldn't help writing when I thought of him as a child writing his fights with Sherlock. Below, there are five dates and five stories that have led the two brothers to their current relationship. Hope you enjoy it :)

Personal Diary

Property of Mycroft Holmes.

 

May, 1982.

I’ve just earned this diary as a gift for the third time I’ve been chosen as the best of my class. I’m going to write everything of important that happens in my life, so when I grow up I can see how I started.

Today mom had promised to take me for a cake at the local cafe, for she’s very proud. I wanted to go alone with her, but she had no one to leave my little brother with. My dad died three years ago, and it’s been a little hard for mom to go on. I think it’s especially because my brother bothers SO MUCH, he can’t stay quiet for a minute. Mom says he’s the opposite of me.

Anyway, Sherlock, my little brother, had to come with us. And as I was telling mom I want to be a diplomat, he smirked and looked at me. I wonder how can a seven-year-old child be so provoking. I carried on, but anytime I’d say what are my plans for the future he would laugh. I couldn’t take that much longer.

-What are you laughing at? – I asked when he interrupted me for the fifth time.

He smiled and lowered his eyes, naughtily. I carried on:

-So, mom, I think maybe I’ll go to a college in London, and leave this town for good – he laughed once more – WHAT DO YOU WANT? – I turned at him.

-Boys, stop fighting – mom said – Mycroft, you’re already a grown up, so behave as one - she looked at my brother - Sherly, why are you laughing at your brother? – she was always too soft at him.

-Because his dream is silly – the little boy smiled, joyfully. 

-Oh, yes? – I said – And what of so great you think you can do?

He looked up and straightened his back, as if he was a very important man.

-I’ll be a pirate.

I laughed and he did not like it.

-You know that’s not a _real_ job, don’t you?

-Mycroft, don’t talk like that to your little brother – mom said.

He looked at me firmly. He is never too shaken by my provoking, and that always makes me mad. You’ve got to understand my brother always wants attention to himself, and that is annoying.

-I can be a pirate if I want to, right, mom? – he looked at her, his eyes shining – I’d have a ship and I would sail it through seas and hide treasures. 

She ruffled his hair.

-You can be whatever you want to – she smiled – But everyone’s different, son. Everyone has its place in the world, you should never despise other’s dreams.

He looked at the table. Mom got up to take our food. An uncontrollable will of pissing him off came at me once we were alone.

-You know you will be the only boring pirate in the world.

-I’m not boring.

-Yes, you are, skinny.

-Mom! – he called and she turned at us.

-For God’s sake, Mycroft!

-But I’ve done nothing – I said, smiling.

Mom came back and slipped a slice of cake in front of me. Sherlock was still grumpy because she had not reprehended me more. I started eating the cake, which was delicious. Sherlock suddenly looked up and smirked again.

-That’s why you’re fat.

I stopped eating and got up. That kid should learn some good manners.

-Mycroft Holmes – mom said firmly – You sit right back, for I didn’t come here for you two to misbehave – she turned to Sherlock – You shouldn’t say these things to Mycroft. He is your brother, you have to get along – and then she turned back at me – And you stop provoking your brother.

That was it. In the end I guess we both knew the time to stop. The rest of the dinner happened calmly. I had one more piece of cake.

Now, it’s occurred to me I’ve never asked my brother why he wants to be a pirate. Maybe in the end he could do that, for God knows he’s stubborn enough to try.

 

April, 1988.

I’m finally going to college. After summer holidays I’m going to leave this town and pursuit a career as a diplomat. I can’t wait for that’s been my dream since I was a kid. Though I think mom is really sad about it, and Sherlock is certainly going to miss me, although he won’t confess it.

Our family is not a pool of confidentiality. My brother and I usually keep our feelings to ourselves and it’s rare to come to each other for advice. When this happens it’s usually without intention.

Today I and Sherlock were sitting at the balcony in front of our house, looking at the garden and watching the few cars that sometimes passed in our quiet street. The last sunshine was upon Sherlock’s messy and dark hair when he turned at me.

-Some day – he said - I’m going to be as smart as you are. No – he thought again - I’ll be better than you are.

I was surprised by that revelation for he had never told me I was smart. I was suddenly flattered.

-In your dreams – it was almost a tradition to provoke him though.

-I’m serious, Mycroft. I’ll practice my observation, I’ve already started to. 

-Really? – I was incredulous, because I’ve never seen him doing that – So, let’s play a game, shall we? You have to tell me one thing about the next person who passes in front of our house.

He joined his hands below his chin in a look of challenge. 

-Okay.

I’ve always thought my gift was restricted to me. So I was impressed when a woman passed and he smiled, looking at her.

-She’s just broken up with her boyfriend.

-And how do you know that? 

-She’s dressed for an important meeting. Her make-up is blurred, so she’s been crying. She’s pulling a rose bouquet to her chest, I’d say she’s earned it from someone she likes very much, most probably her boyfriend. She’s still obviously in love with him, so I guess he’s the one who’s ended it.

It was a bit superficial and there were some mistakes, but he is only thirteen, and that amazed me. I felt a little jealous though.

-How did I do? – he looked at me eagerly.

-Well, I think that for your age that’s good. But you still haven’t discovered where I hid your pirate hat – I smirked.

I was waiting for a defying reply. But Sherlock suddenly stopped, staring at nothing in particular, as if he was thinking of a really important thing.

-You can keep it.

-What? But it’s your pirate hat.

-I don’t want to be a pirate anymore.

I was surprised at him. I knew some day he would realize that was just a childhood dream, but somehow that made me sad, because I know how obstinate he was about this.

-Why?

-I’m not a child anymore.

I’ve always seen him as a dreamy person, and his suddenly fall into reality bothered me. We were both silent, so he looked at me and I saw he was sad.

-Do you think there is something wrong with us?

I was not expecting that.

-Wrong? What do you mean?

-You know, these things we can observe and the way we behave. Do you think we’re freaks?

I didn’t know what to say.

-Who told you this, Sherlock?

-Nobody – he lowered his eyes.

-I’m your brother. You can trust me, you can tell me anything - and the truth in those words scared me. I suddenly realized we were more attached than I’d thought.

It took him a while, and I saw when a tear rolled over his cheek. He turned away, trying to hide his face from me.

-My classmates – he said – They’ve told me I’d better change.

-Why would they do this?

-Well, I think they are right in a way. You know, I usually keep things to myself, and never talk to them very much. But I was telling them about that Carl Powers’s case and how I thought there was something wrong and they told me I should stop it, that I was bothering them. They said they wanted the best for me, they wanted people to like me – his voice trembled – I tried to apologize, but they wouldn’t listen. They said that’s why I’m always alone. They said I’m very nice, but people won’t see it, because I’m… strange – I could see he was crying silently.

I was shaken for I had never seen my brother so hurt. I guess I supposed he was as strong as I wanted him to be.

-Sherlock – I said – You should never apologize for being who you are. Those kids call themselves your friends, but they don’t know you enough for that. They don’t see how great you are in your own way and you shouldn’t worry about them at all.

-But I feel alone sometimes, Mycroft. Sometimes I wish I had someone close to me, someone who understood me. And maybe they’re right, maybe it’s my fault I have no one.

-It’s not – I was not very sure of how to carry on – You’ve just not found someone who deserves your friendship yet. Sometimes it’s better to be alone then with people who keep judging you – I noticed I was talking about me too. All these years, I’ve never cared about what people think of me. But Sherlock is different after all. He _wants_ people to like him – Someday you’ll find someone who admires and respects you for what you are.

-You can’t know that for sure.

-No, I can’t – I said – But I like to believe that life give us what we need and what we can bear.

-You’re just saying it. You’re so much of a Spock for believing in that.

-I think we all have to believe in something, in the end, whatever it being. And I believe in you, Sherlock. I believe you’ll find someone – and I really meant it.

He turned to me.

-What if I don’t?

-Then you’ll always have your family. We are the same, although you may not think it. But I understand you better than anyone else. And, even if you find someone, but don’t want to tell him or her something you think will hurt them, you can always come to me. That’s what family is for.

He looked at me, finally accepting what I was telling him. He wiped his tears and smiled, although I could see he was still a little sad.

Now I think I understand why he wanted to be a pirate. He could go in adventures with fellows that shared of his eagerly, of his unquiet spirit. He wouldn’t need to expose his feelings, he could be himself and yet there would be no one to judge him.

In that moment, I doubted if going away was the right thing to do, for I saw he needed me. But I can’t stay, I couldn’t give up on my life like that. And I trust he would go on, for I believe he is strong enough.

 

December, 1991.

This was the first time I could come home. It has been three years and a half since I left. Things I didn’t expect have kept me away. A new world of possibilities has opened to me, where my discretion and power of observation make me the perfect candidate to certain jobs. But I can’t really talk about it.

Mom was angry at me for not visiting them, but soon we were talking normally, she was happy for seeing me after all. But I can’t reach Sherlock. We are still provoking each other, but now he is more distant. He is cold, more focused. I saw that the years alone have made him even more recluse. He said hello to me in a sardonic voice, as if he wanted to punish me for leaving, for saying I would be there and then disappearing.

He is still alone. No friend of his came for Christmas. Mom, he and I spent it alone in our old house. Sherlock didn’t tell me how he is, or what he had been going through. He’s been dealing with his problems alone, and that’s changed him. 

That night, I heard footsteps, and I left my room quietly, walking to the top of the stairs until I could have a look of our living room. The Christmas tree was near the lightened fireplace. Sherlock was sitting on an armchair. His eyes were fixed on nothing specific, but his features showed me he was sad. His cold mask had been dropped once he was alone. And that broke my heart, because in a way that was my fault.

In that moment, I promised myself I would take care of him. But I knew he wouldn’t accept it, he wouldn’t accept my help for now it was a sign of weakness. Probably he thought that if I could carry on, it was his duty to do so. He would be alone, even not wanting to.

I guess it was this night we settled how our relationship as brothers would be. He struggling to do everything by his own, seeing me as an enemy, someone with whom he had to be equal with. And I trying to keep an eye on him, and doing whatever I could to help without his knowledge. In the end we both have masks. But he has a lonely regret under his.

 

December, 2010.

I’ve just found this diary while I was going through some old papers and belongings. I’ve been thinking of Sherlock more often these days. Sadly or not, we still act as I’ve written for the last time. It’s a game that has been on since that Christmas, to which we’re now used to. He knows I’m around, I know he knows, but we don’t talk about it.

Reading my notes I saw I was actually right though, for a few months ago Sherlock has really found someone who I think deserves his attention and caring. It’s his roommate, a kind of adrenaline junkie, an army doctor who has been to Afghanistan and has trust issues. It is ironic how he’s chosen to trust the one person everybody thinks is too distant for being relied. 

I actually think their relationship works because of this. In a way, John understands him more than I do, he truly knows Sherlock. Also he is already more protective than I’ve ever been, and that’s just what Sherlock needs: someone who trusts him and admires him even him lying and hiding important information all the time; someone who cares and will be there for him no matter what; someone that likes him for what he is. And that’s exactly what John Watson is.

 

p.s. I’ve found out Sherlock knew where I’d hidden his pirate hat, for when I opened the bin where I had locked it, I’ve found a note of 1988 that said he thought I was cleverer.

 

2012.

Sherlock always knew I was there for him, but he had never admitted he needed my help. That’s why I got really surprised when he asked me something. But as he told me what he needed I understood I was the only person he could rely on for that. I have the connections he needs.

-I understand what you’re saying, but what about John? – I asked after he’d repeated his plan for the third time – Are you sure you don’t want to involve him on this?

-I can’t, Mycroft. Moriarty will obviously use my proximity to him as a way of persuasion. I know what Moriarty’s plan is, and I need to keep John safe. My plan needs to be convincing and that’s the only way.

I nodded.

-And do you know how long it will take till you come back?

-I don’t know. I need fresh air, fresh cases. London’s made me sick. I’ll probably wait until the city carries on.

-And are you sure you want it to learn how to do this without you?

He was looking at me with no expression.

-You know it’s not a choice, that’s the safest way of protecting them.

-What if you don’t like what you’ll find when you come back?

-It’s worth the risk.

I smiled.

-You, after all, have a heart, Sherlock.

He looked at me, seriously.

-Interpret it as you wish – he turned his back at me and walked towards the door.

-What if _John_ gets over you? What if his loyalty proves to be weaker than you think?

-I know him, Mycroft. I know he will not believe a word the papers will say.

-But you know he’ll carry on, don’t you? Aren’t you afraid of losing him?

He didn’t answer. Just turned away again and before leaving the room, stopped and, without looking at me, said:

-Goodbye, Mycroft.

It was when I saw he knew it. He knew there were risks he didn’t want to admit that were bothering him. I saw he was afraid, but in the end the egocentric man was doing something for someone else even if it was going to endanger the most important thing for him. It was in that act I comprehended Sherlock Holmes was better than me after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think of it :)


End file.
